The alarm rang at 4 am.
It’s just a number, I tell myself, as I rise gingerly out of bed and climb into the running gear I laid out the night before.
So many ask why I would wake up so early, and it’s hard to describe why, especially when they utter the words, “well, I could never do that.”
I think we all remember our first November Project workout: the sound of that first alarm, the crazy reason that was good enough to drive us to depart our warm cocoon and enter the unknown, and the first time we watched the shadows of people emerge from the darkness in every direction.
I remember standing alone, nervous, watching the hugs and smiles, questioning what in the world I was doing there. We all remember those feelings vividly, but then came the bounce, and something changed…we felt ridiculous, and we kinda liked it.
In the words of Rob McCombs to explain NP to curious girls at the last happy hour, “We are NOT a cult. We’re just LIKE a cult.”
Nine months later I’d bounce at the starting line of the Brooklyn Half (my first half) and scream my head off with friends, and watch the disbelieving faces of the runners in the nearby corals. They looked on in wonder, but we all know they secretly wished they could join along.
We weren’t running this race alone, nor even as a team: we ran it as a family. And unlike any group I have ever been a part of, I can say with certainty we all wanted each other to do well. The people of November Project have shown me that you should never want someone to do badly, in order for you to do well.
Throughout the whole race I heard shouts of “Yeah November Project!” and “Looking Great NP!” which culminated in the burst of energy that was Mile 11. The screams of encouragement, a squirtgun headshot from Mary, and the outstretched hands did far more than just pushing me to the finish.
I thought about the hugs that greeted me at the workout after my family had to put down my dog Einstein; I thought about the words “I’m glad you’re here” on the mornings I was internally hurting, and I thought about what wearing that spray-painted November Project shirt meant to me.
That shirt represents the times I have been pushed to my absolute potential (thanks Mary) and the group of individuals that will always be there, regardless of the weather, election results, tough times, or even if we face a difficult workout because someone (*cough* Gary *cough*) referred to the Boston Marathon as a “fun run.”
How many other groups of people can you look into the future, and know for certain they will always be there? This is so much more than a workout group.
But back to my 4 am alarm; on this particular morning, I was entrusted to be the photographer for the yearbook photos. I take photos because I love capturing moments in time, and attempting to show the best in people.
It’s my honor to be a part of an annual tradition that has captured thousands of people, and now extends to 41 cities around the world. I cannot wait for everyone to see their yearbook photos, and hope they bring as much joy as it gave me to take them.
I did not expect to see the positivity award hurtling in the air towards me that morning, but more importantly I did not understand the true meaning of it until I sit with it now.
I do not hold the positivity award for myself; I feel the weight of the November Project NYC tribe, all the people who came before me, everything we stand for, and where we go in the future.
The people I have witnessed carrying the positivity award are some of the greatest people I have ever met, and it only excites me more to imagine the unbelievable people that will grasp it in their hands in the future. It connects us all, and I can’t help but think how lucky I am to be just a tiny segment in that chain.
I feel so much pride in being a member of this group, more so than anything else I have ever done in my life, even when struggling up that godforsaken Ward’s Island bridge on a rainy Wednesday morning.
So why do I wake up so early? Because no matter what’s going on in your life, the sun truly does rise with November Project.
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